


3 Times Peter Caught Wade Fucking Inanimate Objects and 1 Time Peter Got Fucked Instead

by mokuyoubi



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, First Time, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Inanimate Object Porn, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Pie fucking, Prompt 100, Rimming, Virgin Peter Parker, prompt 105, prompt 120, prompt 126, pumpkin fucking, unforgivable puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-16 03:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokuyoubi/pseuds/mokuyoubi
Summary: What's on the label, folks, Halloween themed.For the prompts: #100 Jack o’ Lantern Fleshlight, #126 Someone fucking a pumpkin pie, #120 Halloween porno? HALLOWEEN PORNO, #105 Happy Halloween! Peter loses his virginity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting this all tonight, as it is beta'd and edited.
> 
> Though it's not explicitly stated, Peter is an adult in the fic.

1.

This was absolutely not Peter’s fault.

Wade was the one who’d extended the open invitation for Peter to swing by (complete with self-satisfied little chuckle, like he was the first and only to ever come up with that particular pun), whenever he pleased.

Wade’s place was a bit out of the way from Peter’s normal route, but it meant when his patrol took him further north than usual, he had a place to drop in nearby for microwaved junk food and bad monster movies on Netflix.

At least, that was the plan. Wade kept this little box with every delicious flavour of hot chocolate he came across that Peter liked to raid, particularly on nights like tonight, where the weather had taken a sharp turn for the cold.

The window behind the sofa was left unlocked, because Wade reasoned Peter was the only one who could easily reach it, and he wasn’t too concerned with anyone breaking in, anyway. But it was a nice gesture, one that made Peter’s chest clench every time he slid the frame upwards to climb inside, and yet another reason why _This Was Not Peter’s Fault._

Halfway through the window, a moan caught Peter’s attention, and his head whipped towards the sound. Wade was standing at the kitchen counter in profile, completely naked, balls deep in a jack-o-lantern. The image was so absurd; it took Peter a moment to fully process it.

After all, Wade tended to guard his skin so jealously that it was all Peter could focus on at first. Of course he’d known--well, he’d assumed the scars on Wade’s face and hands extended all the way down, but it was different to see it in person. It was almost enough to distract from the rest of the picture.

Then the sounds began to filter through--the wet squelching, the smack of flesh against the cabinet with each flex of Wade’s ass as he drove his cock through the small hole, and the breathless little murmurs of _oh shit, oh damn_ coming from Wade’s mouth.

Peter was back out the window in an instant, pressed against the side of the building, breath coming fast. His cheeks were impossibly hot in the face of the fierce October wind. On it were carried those same, obscene sounds from the still open window. Peter closed his eyes tight, and the image was burned there in his memory.

The ripple of powerful muscles, beneath the scar-mapped skin. Had it been a trick of the light, the way they’d seemed to constantly shift? Wade’s face had been mostly turned away, but Peter had seen the way his mouth hung open emitting those sounds. Peter’s heart leapt in his chest, dick already throbbing like he was about to come just from the grunts and wet smacking sounds coming from within.

His brain was screaming for him to leave, but his muscles wouldn’t budge, fingers pressed hard enough into brick it was cracking beneath his touch. He sent up a fervent prayer of thanks that there was no one around to notice Spider-Man clinging to the fifth floor, pitching a tent in his suit.

Wade’s movements became faster and more erratic. Fuck, it was almost unbelievable. Inhuman, certainly. For a split second Peter felt himself moving in the direction of the window again to look before he slammed himself back against the wall in disbelief. Wade let out the most obscene grunt, and it was unmistakable that he was coming. 

Peter’s cock jerked in time with the sounds, making a wet spot on spandex, and he knew it wouldn’t take much more than a single stroke for him to come, too.

Instead, he stayed exactly where he was, listening as Wade began to move around his apartment and into the bathroom where the shower began to run. Peter finally allowed himself to move. Stealthily closing the window again and then webbing home in record time. Only then did he give in to temptation, stripping down and flinging his suit aside, not even bothering with lube. He was right, it had only taken three quick strokes, and he was shooting off harder than he ever remembered coming, leaving him weak in the legs.

After a few minutes, with jizz growing cold across his knuckles, guilt started to worm its way in. Jesus, he’d just barged in on Wade and instead of behaving like a normal human being, leaving and forgetting it ever happened, he’d hung around for the finish? Then went home and got off to it?

But Peter wasn’t going to take the blame for seeing it in the first place. It wasn’t his fault Wade didn’t lock his damn windows.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

The thing was, once the image was there in Peter’s head, it was hard to get it out. It was impossible not to notice that Wade had a nice body. It was just part of the superhero gig in general that with the skin tight body armour, you got used to seeing every curve and bulge of flesh and muscle, every line of definition, through leather and spandex, and it didn’t matter if you were a horny teenager who was turned on by linoleum, you learned how to be professional about it.

Except now, Peter knew what Wade looked like naked, and it was hard not to superimpose that image over the clothed version when he stood before him. His brain helpfully filled it the soundtrack of moans and slick squelching sounds, and Peter was really thankful for his mask because his cheeks were on fire, and he couldn’t have looked Wade in the eye if his life depended on it.

So that made patrolling awkward the following night.

It was even worse when he came home and saw the carved jack-o-lantern on his neighbour’s fire escape, and, for a brief second, he couldn’t help but wonder what it had felt like for Wade. Peter didn’t think it would be a pleasant experience, what with the cold, stringy, goopy bits, not to mention the smell, but Wade had certainly seemed to enjoy it.

Thankfully, his brain came back on line and forced him into a cold shower instead.

A few days passed before he heard from Wade again. It wasn’t entirely unusual for that amount of time or longer to pass. Sometimes Wade went out of town on a job or sometimes he just sort of lost himself down a rabbit hole. He’d texted Peter a photo of a pumpkin pie going into the oven, with an invitation to join him for a slice. 

Frankly, Peter was still too mortified by their previous encounter, not to mention more than a little suspicious about the source of the pumpkin puree Wade had used. Besides, he had school work to do and planned on skipping out on patrolling tonight. No amount of sad gifs or inexplicable and bewildering strings of emojis from Wade would move him.

Except then around 10, he got a call from Cap about a situation that could use his attention. Peter dutifully pulled on his suit, dragged himself up, and left the coziness of his apartment for the biting night air.

The situation turned out to be easy enough to handle, if not time consuming. It was just a group of teenagers running around in costumes committing vandalism and petty theft. Rounding them all up took over an hour, though it was gratifying how easily each of them surrendered to him; more than one asked for a selfie with him while they waited for the cops.

By the time he finished, the misting rain had turned into a full downpour. Wade’s place was only a handful of blocks away as opposed to the twenty minutes or so of swinging he had to look forward to on his way home. Besides, maybe he could sweet talk his way into a ride home from Dopinder if he batted his lashes just right.

Even from outside, Peter could smell the spices of the pumpkin pie--cinnamon and clove with a delicate undercurrent of nutmeg and allspice. How long had it been since he’d had home baked pumpkin pie? His mouth watered, and he considered the likelihood that Wade had _actually_ used THAT pumpkin to bake it.

The chances were depressingly high.

Peter was more cautious this time, sliding the window open and slowly getting one foot over the frame to rest on the floor inside. There were no suspicious sounds right off the bat. Slightly more confident, he brought his second leg in. 

He lowered the window again and turned, mouth opened and ready to call out Wade’s name to alert him of his presence when he saw it. Wade was backed up into the corner of the cabinets, mostly dressed this time, with a hoodie pushed up under his armpits and his jeans sagging around his thighs. Even with a partially obstructed view, there was no mistaking what he was doing to the pumpkin pie.

Wade’s eyes were closed, thankfully, because Peter couldn’t stop staring. Unlike last time, when he couldn’t get out of the window fast enough, now he was glued to the spot. Wade’s hips worked in a slow, fluid rocking motion, and he was silent except for the heavy breathing.

Peter’s eyes roamed up and down, taking it all in. By now, he was used to the scarred skin of Wade’s face; a lot of the time he didn’t even notice it and while it was hard to miss with so much revealed, it was difficult to focus on in the face of everything else. 

The exposed, hard cut of Wade’s abs, the way they fluttered when he drew a breath. The pronounced V of his hips pointing downwards drew Peter’s gaze. Before, Peter had only gotten a brief glimpse of Wade’s cock, mostly buried in the pumpkin, and now the tin was in the way. He was suddenly torn between shame, guilt, and the anticipation of seeing something more.

Then, as if in response to Peter’s thoughts, Wade shifted, turned to lay the pie on the counter top and half climbed on top of it in one quick movement that left Peter a little breathless. His heart was pounding, mouth dry, as Wade hunched over the pie. His cock was mostly in the shadows, but Peter could see it was long and thick, and covered in pumpkin. Even more shocking than the fact that he was standing there actually _watching_, was the thought that sprung up in his mind about what it would taste like, to lick it off.

That was a jolt to Peter’s system. Somehow what he’d missed between the painful hard-on he was currently sporting and the shameless jerking off from the other night, now became abundantly clear. His attraction to Wade wasn’t just some casual appreciation for how nicely he filled out his suit. 

Before he could spiral any further, Peter had to get the fuck out of here. That Wade hadn’t noticed him already bordered on the absurd, but then again, Peter had never fucked a pumpkin pie. Maybe it was just that good.

Back outside in the cold and rain, body swinging home on autopilot, Peter’s brain was whirring with a million chaotic, overlapping, directionless thoughts. Maybe he’d been in denial before because everything over the past several months was quickly slotting into place: how often he ended up at Wade’s after patrol even when it was out of his way, how comfortable he felt just coming in and making himself at home. The truly ridiculous amount of text messaging between them.

All of that, he supposed, could be dismissed as a good friendship, except for all the little details Peter had worked so hard to justify. Offering to swing Deadpool around when he could probably get by just fine on his own, if only to feel the hard press of his body against Peter’s back and strong thighs wrapped around his hips. Sometimes during mid-fight Peter’d catch sight of Wade and end up staring, mesmerised by the way he moved, until his Spidey Sense kicked in and warned him to get back in the game. There was the disappointment, when Peter’s phone wasn’t constantly abuzz with Wade’s texts, while other threads sat unanswered for hours or days.

Why hadn’t Peter just knocked or called out before he entered tonight? Sure, the window was unlocked, but it was still just common courtesy. Maybe he couldn’t be blamed for the first time; it was, after all, routine. But after what he’d seen then, he should have taken it as a warning. Unless he’d subconsciously hoped to see something like it again...

How had he missed the knowing looks shared between Ned and Michelle every time he brought up Wade? Or the bewildered and dismayed expressions on the faces of the Avengers when the two of them showed up together for a mission? And yes, people did have sex dreams about their friends, but maybe the frequency and intensity of them should have given him a clue?

“Oh fuck.” The wind whipped away the faint words, and Peter was left wondering what the hell to do with this sudden revelation.

There were texts waiting from Wade when Peter got home that night.

_don’t worry petey, I saved you a piece_

And then,

_think the cream’s gone flat_ with a sad-faced emoji.

All Peter could see in his mind’s eye was the sad remnants of the pie, covered in thick strips of cum, and weirdly, it wasn’t the turn-off he expected it to be...


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Okay, this time it was Peter’s fault. 

What else should he have expected, putting an unmarked disc in Wade’s bluray player?

And he’d been so _good_ this time. Knocking on the window, waiting patiently. There’d been no answer and when he’d finally ducked inside and called out Wade’s name, he’d confirmed the apartment was empty. 

When he dialled Wade’s number, utter chaos answered on the other line. Wade sounded chipper and unaffected by whatever was happening in the background. “Just waiting on line for the Mean Girls lottery. Should be home in about an hour!” 

“Yeesh, look out for that bus!” There came the sound of a katana meeting flesh. Peter made an aborted sound of protest, but Wade spoke over him. “Line’s moving, gotta run, help yourself!” The line went dead after that.

The tv had every streaming service known to mankind, so there was absolutely no good reason for Peter to be drawn to the conspicuously placed disc lying on the coffee table. He had no defense other than curiosity. No menu showed up, and no previews, it just started playing right away.

At first, it seemed to be a horror film from the music and cinematography. The camera panned over a lawn covered in autumn leaves at night, an appropriately foreboding house with flickering candles in the windows and jack-o-lanterns on the porch with a score reminiscent of Halloween.

There was a package on the front porch. A man opened the door. He was visible only from the shins downward, dressed in khaki slacks and loafers, but when he bent to pick up the package, familiar scarred hands came into the frame.

The camera followed Wade inside through a nicely appointed home to the kitchen. Then those hands opened the package and withdrew something that looked like a beautifully rendered silicone pumpkin about the size of a fist, attached to a long, black tube.

Very quickly, it became all too clear how wrong Peter had been about this being a horror film. The next thing he knew Wade’s hand was lowering his zipper and pulling out his hardening cock, and Peter got his first clear look at it. Even thicker than it had seemed the other night, uncut, scarred like the rest of him.

His fingers eased back the foreskin from the head of his cock and traced the tip over the strange grooves on the surface of the pumpkin. And then Peter realised what, exactly, it was. Lube dribbled down from out of frame, and Wade gave his dick a few strokes, spreading it around, putting on a bit of a show as he worked it down his length.

Pet shifted in discomfort, crossing, uncrossing, and then recrossing his legs. He pressed the heel of his palm to his growing erection as if he could make it go away. On screen, Wade brought the pumpkin back to his cock and began to split the opening wide.

He should stop this now. Turn it off, take the disc out, and get himself under control before Wade came home. Instead, the hand pushing down on his dick started squeezing instead, stroking lightly up and down. 

Usually Peter wasn’t one to take his time. He didn’t have the patience, and he didn’t see the point, but for some reason, he wanted to keep time with the slow pace Wade had set on screen. His gentle rocking back and forth wasn’t going very deep yet... just the tip breaching the opening, then withdrawing completely, before repeating and slowly inching deeper with each thrust. It was agonising. Peter was ready to come within minutes. Wade finally gave one rough thrust that swallowed him up to the hilt.

A low groan issued from on-screen, the sound even deeper than the usual timbre of Wade’s voice grated like sandpaper on Peter’s nerves but in a good way. He shuddered and squeezed his cock.

This was truly beyond belief, that he was getting off to a porno of a guy fucking a pumpkin-shaped fleshlight, even if that guy _was_ Wade.

And yet, Peter didn’t stop. Finally reached into the opening of his suit to touch himself, skin to skin. He fisted himself, fucking up into his fist every time Wade pushed into the toy, felt every detail with the slow glide. How hadn’t he realised how it could feel to take his time, draw out the pleasure instead of racing for the finish line? 

He didn’t know how long it went on, but Wade’s movements grew faster and jerkier. Peter’s whole body was trembling, chest heaving with the effort to hold back. And when Wade pulled out and began to shoot ribbons of white cum, stark against the orange of the pumpkin, Peter shook apart.

Peter kept waiting for the inevitable shame to come as the heavy heat that had spread throughout his limbs began to fade. Instead, there was still a thread of arousal running all along his nerves. The more he thought about it, the more it all seemed a little too coincidental. 

Walking in on Wade once, fine. It had certainly happened to Peter before, though thankfully never with anything other than his own _hand_. But twice, especially after he’d invited Peter over? Well, that was pushing it a bit far. Now there was a mysteriously unmarked disc left lying out?

Was this--could it possibly be some sort of fucked up courting ritual?

When he thought about it like that, considering all of Wade’s hang ups, it almost made sense. Then he could have some plausible deniability if Peter wasn’t into it. He didn’t have to make himself vulnerable this way, because in Wade’s mind, the rejection might be worse than being caught fucking a pumpkin.

Peter got up from the sofa and did his best to clean up the mess he’d made on the front of his suit. He searched around for something to write on and found a receipt to Claire’s for roughly 8 billion glittery unicorn accessories and flipped over to write on the back, _Don’t get started without me, P_. He draped it over the blu-ray player and held it in place with a little statuette of Wolverine.

Then he was out the window swinging down the street to the one place that might have what he was looking for _and_ still be open at this hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter will sadly not make it before the end of Halloween, but will be up very soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait--enjoy!

4.

Peter went with the door this time, just in case anyone noticed the dude climbing up the wall of Wade’s apartment building _wasn’t_ in a spider-suit. He knocked three times in quick succession and stood there, twisting the hem of his new costume and pulling it all out of shape.

Well, it wasn’t so much a costume as a bright orange, oversized sweatshirt that kept slipping off one shoulder. It was short, barely brushing the tops of his thighs. Paired with the black thigh-high socks and shiny knee-high boots, Peter thought he managed to make it look good. But the cheerful jack-o-lantern face detailed across the chest wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping for when he’d gone in search of a pumpkin costume.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers, or whatever.

Wade’s footsteps sounded within, and Peter swallowed back the doubt and anxiety that was clawing its way up his throat. He threw back his shoulders and tried to strike a confident pose. This wasn’t the way he’d imagined losing his virginity, but given how many of the other milestones in his life had passed, it sort of made sense... in a fucked up kinda way.

The lock clicked and then the door was opening, Wade standing there in his suit, sans mask and gloves, and Peter looked up at him from under his lashes. Wade’s hairless brows shot up to his forehead as he took in the sight before him. He tucked away the gun he’d been holding in its holster and let out a long whistle.

“Not sure how the change in costume is going to fit with the whole spider theme--not to mention it might be tricky to fight in, but I gotta say, you look gourd-geous.”

Leave it to Wade’s inappropriateness and inanity to cure Peter of his nerves. He rolled his eyes, brought his hand up to his hip and cocked it towards Wade. The movement was one he’d made a thousand times before in response to shit Wade said but only now was Peter realising just how flirtatious in nature it was. He shouldered past Wade into the living room.

“It’s Halloween, dipshit.”

Wade swung the door shut behind them. “Oh, well in that case, if you’re gonna go as a pumpkin, do it right. Have some fucking respect.”

Before Peter could fully process and internalise the words, Wade had reached out to grab him by his bare shoulder. “But seriously, please don’t change, I love your body.”

It wasn’t anything Wade hadn’t already said before and yet, rather than brush it off or turn it into a joke like he normally would, the words settled hot in Peter’s gut. His hands went back to the hem of his shirt, twisting it in a nervous gesture that drew Wade’s gaze downward.

“I really hope I’m not misreading this situation,” Wade said. His hand, still on Peter’s shoulder, was hot and heavy as it smoothed over the bare skin inwards. His thumb flicked at the joint of Peter’s shoulder and neck.

“Yeah, me too.”

Wade arched a single brow. “I’m not following.” Peter could practically feel the weight of Wade’s gaze taking him in. His eyes lingered at the bare curve of his shoulders and the thin strip of skin left visible between sweater and thigh highs. “But I _really_ want to.”

The movement of Wade’s thumb on Peter’s neck made it difficult to think--a gentle, teasing swipe that made the fine hairs there stand on end. Peter cleared his throat and moved out of Wade’s reach, across to the kitchen area. Except over here, all he could think about were the memories of Wade fucking a pumpkin pie on the very same countertop he now leaned against.

What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never felt this way around Wade before, all shy and tongue-tied. It was _Wade_ for god’s sake.

“I watched that video.” Peter tipped his head toward the television.

“Ooh, how’d I rate?” Wade didn’t look embarrassed, which, given the things he’d said and done in Peter’s presence, made sense. But it wasn’t fair, the way he could just shrug it off as if it were no big deal while Peter squirmed in discomfort at the admission, unable to meet Wade’s eyes.

“And I saw you the other night.”

Wade followed him, leaning against the far end of the counter, and if Peter closed his eyes, he’d no doubt see the image of Wade standing there naked with his dick in a pumpkin again. “You’re gonna have to be more specific,” he said, with a wolfish grin.

Peter shoved aside his nerves and pushed himself up on the island, letting his legs fall open with his hands clasping the edge of the counter between his thighs. It pushed the hem of his sweater up to his hips, baring a whole lot of skin and matching orange boxer briefs. “With the pie,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut as heat suffused his cheeks. 

“Just like third base; don’t worry, we’ll just tell your mother we ate it all,” Wade said, off-handed.

“And the pumpkin.”

A warm, scar-puckered hand fell on Peter’s thigh, and he almost jumped. It took his super reflexes to keep him from throwing a punch on instinct. Peter opened his eyes to find Wade close enough to see all the variant shades of his eyes, from the deep cobalt to the bright azure.

“Peter, Peter,” he tisked. “I had no idea what a nasty little voyeur you were.”

“Sh-shut up,” Peter stuttered, as Wade smoothed his hand further up Peter’s thigh, pushing his legs open wider to step between them.

“Wow, how can I possibly argue with such wit?” Wade teased.

Peter rolled his eyes. Was this really the guy he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for the past week? “I guess we’re a match made in heaven, between my voyeurism and your exhibitionism.”

“Touché.” Wade brought his free hand up to trace the jack-o-lantern’s gap-toothed smile. “So is this some sort of attempt at seduction?” Wade asked. “Because first of all, I am totally dtf, but this is definitely the strangest come on I’ve ever received, and that’s saying something...”

“You know what?” Peter said, starting to push himself off the counter. “You’re right, this was an awful idea.” Wade’s hand tightened like a steel band, thumb digging into the tender skin of Peter’s inner thigh. It would be an easy thing for Peter to break free, but the sensation went straight to his dick, making him freeze. 

Wade leaned in, ducking his head to whisper in Peter’s ear. As he spoke, his lips brushed over the delicate skin there. “No need to be so hasty.” His hand drew higher still, taking the hem of Peter’s sweater with it. “I’m a huge fan of awful ideas. I have them all the time.”

The edge of his nail caught the leg of Peter’s underwear and hooked beneath it, and Peter’s dick gave a little jerk in response. Wade’s breath was moist on Peter’s skin as he spoke. “Tell me all about it.”

Between them, pressed against Peter’s hands, he could feel Wade’s erection. Wade being attracted to him wasn’t exactly news, given how often he hit on Peter or found excuses to grope and rub against him. Even the obscene things he said about Peter’s ass on a regular basis were pretty solid evidence on their own. But for whatever reason, feeling the proof of it was enough to bolster Peter’s confidence. He brought his hands to rest behind him on the counter, making a point to run his knuckles up the length of Wade’s cock as he went.

As Peter leaned back on his palms, Wade followed him, caging him in. “It just seemed like a waste,” Peter managed. “Watching you stick your dick in a fucking _pie_, when you could have been sticking it in me.”

“There it is,” Wade said. He ducked his head to catch Peter’s gaze, and his eyes were smouldering, which sounded silly in Peter’s head, but in practice left him feeling open and exposed and stupidly turned on. “I’m gonna take you up on that invitation now.”

Peter nodded haltingly. “Yes, please,” he said, or tried to say, but then Wade’s mouth was on his, and the words died between them. 

The kiss was rough and demanding from the start, with Wade sinking his teeth into Peter’s bottom lip and drawing a gasp. Apparently that had been Wade’s intention, and he licked his way inside with a little hum of pleasure. In contrast to the roughness of the kiss, Wade’s lips were surprisingly soft. Scars so ragged in appearance, uneven beneath Peter’s touch, were equally soft when he brought his hand up to Wade’s neck.

Wade drew him closer with an arm around his waist, and Peter brought his legs up to wrap around Wade’s hips. It brought them flush together with Wade’s hardness tucked up close to Peter’s in a way that made him whine and twist to get closer. The seam of Wade’s suit cut into Peter’s thigh, and despite the discomfort, the sensation was doing something for Peter, reminding him of his relative state of undress in comparison.

It took superhuman effort for Peter to pull himself away from the kiss, and Wade pursued, coaxing another brief kiss out of him, and then another, before Peter finally gave in trying to speak and used his hands instead. He went for the katana straps first, and Wade quickly got the hint. Their hands fumbled together loosening them, then Wade shrugged free, stepping back so they were only joined at the mouth for a brief moment, before Peter tugged him back in close. The katana fell to the ground with a clatter and were forgotten. 

Together they undid his costume’s zipper, and then Peter’s hands were pushing between suit and skin, spreading the fabric up and over Wade’s broad shoulders. His skin was so warm, like a furnace, and Peter’s fingers traced the dips and crests of his scars blindly. He itched to trace that same path with his mouth, but that would mean leaving Wade’s, which seemed like such a shame when Wade kept doing this thing with his tongue against Peter’s palate that was so fucking good.

Wade’s own hands made their way back to Peter’s thighs, then up and under the sweater to stroke over his stomach. Peter’s muscles twitched at the touch, and he gave a little squeak into the kiss when one hand darted upward to pinch his nipple. 

Wade chuckled in response, parting from Peter’s mouth to kiss down his jaw to his pulse, where he gave a sharp, sucking bite. Peter whimpered, clinging blindly to Wade’s shoulders. He’d had _no idea_ that such a simple touch could have such a dramatic effect on him, but trapped within his boxers, his dick only managed to jerk and dribble precum.

“That’s--ah!!” Peter cried out when Wade did it again, lower, closer to the curve of his neck. It was even more powerful this time, like an electric shock. “That’s a lot, I don’t--” _know if I can take it_ was what he meant to say, but then Wade’s hand was between his thighs, fondling the shape of him through his underwear, and Peter lost his train of thought as he shoved his hips mindlessly into the touch.

“Let’s just take the edge off, shall we?” Wade asked, and before Peter could process the words, he’d pushed the sweater up to expose Peter’s underwear and hook his fingers in the waistband. Obligingly, Peter lifted his hips, watching what happened next as an almost out of body experience as Wade lowered them down over his thighs and knees, and left them to hang on the ankles of his boots.

No one had ever seen him like this before, and Peter had always expected it to be more nerve-wracking. Like showering after gym class with a bunch of hormonal, asshole teenage boys but worse, because you had a hard on. But somehow this was blindly hot, watching Wade watch him, naked only between waist and thigh with his dick curving up towards his stomach, slick from the leaking head. 

“You ever have someone suck your dick, Pete?”

Peter shook his head wordlessly, and Wade’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips. He leaned in to press a little kiss to the underside of Peter’s cock. It wasn’t like it was an overwhelmingly pleasurable touch, but the sight was enough to make him groan and his hips thrust forward in search of more. Wade just smiled, brought his hand up to wrap around the base and guided the head to his mouth, spreading precum over the seam of his lips before parting them to suck him in.

And then, well, Peter didn’t know how long he lasted after that. Wade’s mouth was wet and hot and the way he hollowed out his cheeks--Peter had assumed he’d known how awesome a blowjob was, with the way other guys went on about them, but this went so above and beyond any of his expectations. How was he supposed to want to do anything else ever again? He reached out to run his hands over Wade’s head, tracing the shapes of the scars to the base of his skull and just holding on for the ride. Wade kept doing the same thing with his tongue as he had in their kiss, only this time he pressed against the skin beneath the head of Peter’s cock. Before Peter had time to warn him, he was cumming. He could feel every pulse shooting through his cock like a jolt of electric pleasure, and Wade hummed and swallowed every last bit.

Peter sagged back against the counter top, sleepy and boneless. On the floor between his spread legs, Wade looked incredibly pleased with himself. Something about the red, swollen skin of his lips made Peter _need_ to kiss him, and he let himself slip off the edge of the counter to settle in Wade’s lap, sealing their mouths together. He hadn’t even thought of it, until he was licking past Wade’s lips, but that was his own cum he was tasting in Wade’s mouth.

“I think I’ve spent too much time around you,” Peter told him, with their mouths still pressed together.

“Yeah, there’s definitely been some rubbing off around here.”

“Ugh,” Peter groaned. “You are the worst, Burr.”

Wade pressed his grin into Peter’s neck. His hands splayed over Peter’s back, large enough to almost span the entire width of him and warm him even through his sweater. What a strange sensation, to feel small and vulnerable in someone else’s arms and more than that, liking it. 

“More kinky role-play, Peter?” Wade asked. “I could get behind you in a waistcoat and breeches.”

“Mmm.” Peter kissed the spot where Wade’s jaw met his neck. The scars there were puckered, silvery-purple skin, and he dragged his lips back and forth across them, revelling in the sensation. “That’s hardly a compliment. You’d get behind just about anything.”

Wade palmed Peter’s ass with both hands and gave a squeeze, lifting and separating. Peter rocked his hips forward, and his dick started to express its interest again.

“Don’t be jelly,” Wade murmured, nuzzling through Peter’s hair to close his teeth around his earlobe. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up to get my attention; you’d win out over a pumpkin any day.”

“What a fucking relief,” Peter said, droll. His hips gave a little jump when Wade probed his fingers between his cheeks. “Um…” Wade stroked downwards and found Peter’s opening, and all of Peter’s breath left him at once. “Never done that, either.”

Wade’s chuckle rumbled between them as he traced the twitching hole, applying pressure without pushing inside. "Wanna change that?”

Peter rubbed his face against Wade’s shoulder, like that could somehow rid him of his embarrassment. “You know I do.” His words were muffled against Wade’s skin.

With a twist of his spine and a flex of powerful thighs, Wade stood up, taking Peter with him. Peter flailed for a moment, almost knocking them both to the ground, before his reflexes kicked in, and he wrapped around Wade with his entire body. 

“That’s it, Spidey Boy.” He carried Peter down the hall to his bedroom, where he dropped him unceremoniously on the bed, and started on the laces of his boots. Peter just watched, bunching the unmade comforter up in his hands.

“What’s the pouty face about?” Wade asked. He gave a tug and Peter pulled his leg back, and the boot came free.

Peter shrugged and looked away from Wade’s questioning gaze. Wade ran his hand up Peter’s leg, from ankle to knee, and gave a little squeeze. “It’s just, I thought.” Peter huffed a breath of air that stirred the fringe falling over his forehead. “I sort of just imagined it back there in the kitchen. On the counter.”

Wade made a strange noise, falling forward to press his face into the exposed skin of Peter’s thigh. Close enough to his dick like that, it was difficult for Peter to think. “You’re killing me,” Wade groaned. He looked up at Peter with an earnest expression. “I seriously cannot let you lose your virginity on a kitchen counter. We all know I’d be doomed to my own special corner of hell anyway, if I could, you know, die. But that’s a whole ‘nother level.” 

At Peter’s pout, Wade laid a smacking kiss on his thigh. “Keep your pants on, Flanders! We’ll get there.”

Together they got Peter’s other boot off. But when Wade started on the socks, Peter laid a hand over his. “We could just leave them on.”

Wade pushed him back onto the mattress with a rough kiss. He shoved off the rest of his suit in a sort of perfunctory way, avoided looking in Peter’s direction, and then climbed up to straddle Peter. Given how sensitive Wade was about it, Peter didn’t mean to stare, but it was hard not to, between the scars and his musculature, and because this was Peter’s first look at Wade’s cock in person.

“Still sure about this?”

Instead of answering with words, Peter wrapped his arms around Wade’s waist, hands firm on his back, and used just enough of his strength to drag him down for a kiss. In this position, with his legs dangling over the edge, unable to touch the floor, he felt small and helpless, crushed under Wade’s weight. Chest tight, breath restricted, and cock painfully hard again just from this, he melted into the way Wade’s tongue curled against his. He spread his legs open wide to cradle Wade between his thighs and arched his back to bring their groins together, both of them moaning in unison.

With guiding hands and murmured words, Wade rolled Peter onto his stomach. He mouthed at the skin on the nape of Peter’s neck, pushed the sweatshirt up around Peter’s armpits, and sank his body down, leaving wet kisses along Peter’s spine. When Wade nipped at his asscheek, Peter yelped in surprise. “You’re not—” he said, unable to finish the thought, torn between revulsion and curiosity.

Wade hummed in agreement, as he spread Peter’s cheeks open. Peter made a sound of protest, wriggling his hips. “Impatient,” Wade murmured, and then he flattened his tongue against Peter’s skin, licking upwards in a broad stripe. Peter let out a helpless huff of laughter at the sensation, but it quickly died on a moan when Wade traced the shape of his hole with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh—” Peter pressed his hand to his mouth against the litany of moans and senseless babbling. “Wade, oh my god, that’s—” Wade jabbed the point of his tongue _inside_. Peter thrust his hips back into his face, and he couldn’t bring himself to apologise because Wade didn’t seem to mind if the way he moaned and shoved his tongue deeper was any indication.

When Wade pulled away, Peter made a bereft sound. He tracked Wade’s movements as he reached over to the nightstand for lube and a condom. One finger worked into Peter’s spit-slick hole. It was only the tip, but it already felt impossibly tight. Wade didn’t go it any deeper, just eased it out and back in, spreading lube as he did, until Peter felt himself growing accustomed to the sensation. Then his cock was right there, the head rubbing back and forth from the skin right behind Peter’s balls, all the way up to his hole. He did it several times, long enough for Peter’s nervous anticipation to turn into impatience.

“Would you just—” 

The head of Wade’s cock took the place of his finger. “Just as bossy in bed as on a mission,” he husked. Draped over Peter’s back, face tucked into the curve of Peter’s neck, every single word caused his lips to brush over Peter’s skin. “Why am I not surprised?”

There was just pressure at first, like he wasn’t going to fit in, but Wade kept pushing and the pressure finally gave. Just like that, he was inside. Wade pulled out entirely and pushed back in. The resistance didn’t last as long the second time when he slid inside again. He kept it up for several strokes, going at a painstakingly slow pace. With each push, his cock just barely breached Peter’s body. Besides the strange pressure, it didn’t feel like much.

And then, suddenly, something changed. Peter’s body gave, and Wade sank the rest of the way inside with one long glide and just settled there. There was a persistent twinge of pain present now, like what Peter would associate with a deep massage; the kind of pain that felt good, that made him want more. Peter’s whole body quivered from the warring impulses to hold still and start moving. His cock jutted stiff between stomach and sheets, squirting involuntarily with every little shift of Wade within him.

Slowly, Wade began to move. The gentle rocking didn’t give much friction, but the deep, tingling sensation low in Peter’s groin began to spread. Peter got his arms beneath him, bracing on his elbows to look over his shoulder, his lip caught between his teeth. The curve of his ass made it difficult to really see what was happening, but he could see enough.

“Wade,” he panted. “I know you’re worried about hurting me, or whatever, but I’m not gonna break.”

A shudder ran through Wade. His hand shifted from its grip on his hip, up his back, and finally came to rest on the curve of his neck. He squeezed gently. “Petey,” he said in warning.

“Please.” Peter met Wade’s eyes and really turned on the whole puppy face that always got him his way with Wade. “I really, really just want you to fuck me.”

“No fair,” Wade grumbled. “Batting those baby blues.”

“My eyes are brown,” Peter said, rolling them pointedly. Wade answered with a rough snap of his hips that had Peter letting out a breathy moan. He repeated the motion, his thrust a little shallower, and it dragged back and forth in a way that made Peter's toes curl and his dick throb. “Fuck, they can be whatever colour you want, just keep doing that.”

Wade gave him what he wanted. One hand braced on the mattress, the other using his grip on Peter to pull him back onto his cock with every thrust of his hips, steadily picking up the pace. Part of Peter wanted to push Wade off and onto his back so that he could climb on top. But there was a definite thrill to this position with Wade breathing heavy over his shoulder and Peter on his tiptoes scrambling to find purchase on the floor as he hung off the edge of the bed. It made him feel used and vaguely dirty, like watching Wade fuck the pumpkin or the pie.

The aching pleasure and tingling built with every thrust. It was so different from what Peter normally experienced when he touched himself, rippling all through his body rather than centred in his dick, that Peter didn’t even realise it was his orgasm until he began to shake with it. “Fuck, Wade, I’m gonna cum, I’m—”

Wade’s fingers curled in Peter’s hair and gave a little tug with a particularly rough snap of his hips. He closed his teeth on Peter’s neck, in that place that made him squirm. Peter’s vision went a little spotty as he came. His whole body jerked with the force of it, his ass clutching onto Wade’s dick. Wade groaned, and Peter could feel the vibrations of it, pressed against his back.

Peter collapsed in the wet spot he’d left and made a sound of displeasure. Wade was already pulling out, which was not entirely pleasant, but then he bodily lifted Peter higher up on the bed and laid him back on a pillow.

Being a teenager, it wasn’t like Peter _hadn’t_ gotten off three times in one night before, but it wasn’t exactly a regular thing. His whole body was incredibly heavy, and he could barely keep his eyes open as Wade got up from the bed to throw away his used condom. He disappeared from the room, and Peter could hear him moving around in the kitchen. 

Now that sleepiness was settling in, the socks just felt too constricting and overly warm, and the sweater was all damp from both their sweat. Peter flopped around a little uselessly, bringing up one foot to try to push down the sock on the opposite leg with little success. Wade came back a moment later with a glass of water and shot him an amused look.

Peter huffed a sigh, trying to blow his bangs off his forehead, but they were plastered with sweat. Wade pushed them back for him, and his hand, cold from the water, made Peter sigh in relief.

“It’s getting hot in here,” Wade half-sang.

Peter kicked him in the chest. “So take off all my clothes,” he shot back. Wade, obligingly, hooked one finger from each hand into the stockings and flung them off across the room. 

Then he grabbed Peter by the wrist and got an arm around his waist to pull him up into a seated position and ignored Peter’s whining protests. “Come on, baby,” Wade cooed teasingly. “Arms up, you can do it.”

Peter scowled but let Wade undress him and then flopped back onto the bed, relishing the feel of cool sheets against his skin. Wade lay down beside him, where he pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Once again, Peter expected the embarrassment of being so exposed to overwhelm him, but maybe he was just too tired or maybe it was because it was Wade, but it didn’t come. 

Despite being hot, Peter sort of wanted to feel all of Wade’s skin against his and rolled over to do just that. Wade looked a little surprised to have Peter snuggling up against him, but lifted his arm to let him come closer. The scars really did seem to be moving but then again, Peter’s vision could very well be swimming for all he knew. He traced one that looked newer and angrier than most of the others, threading over Wade’s chest, and Wade made a noise Peter couldn’t quite read.

“So you knew I was going to walk in on you, right? That’s why you did the thing… with the pumpkin and all that?”

“If you can’t say it, Peter…”

Peter shot him an incredulous look. “I wasn’t the one _doing_ it!”

“Oh, but I bet you thought about it.” Peter’s flushed cheeks were all the answer Wade needed, because he gave a little crow of satisfaction.

“If I did, it was only because of you,” Peter muttered.

Wade leaned in close, blocking out most of the light in the room with his big shoulders and nuzzling at Peter’s cheek. “No kink-shaming here, baby boy.”

“But kink-shaming is my kink,” Peter protested with a pout, and it earned him a laugh as Wade lunged to catch his bottom lip between his teeth. It turned into something longer that had Peter sagging into Wade’s hold, giving into the heavy, languid feeling in his limbs. Wade only pulled away when Peter yawned into his mouth.

“Sleep, now,” Wade murmured, brushing their noses together. “Negotiating kinks, later.” Kisses trailed over Peter’s cheek and down the column of his neck, more comforting than arousing. It was nice. Peter hummed his agreement. “And then maybe you can take your turn with the pumpkin.”

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to Jennicide for not only allowing me to bitch and moan about the craziness of the prompts I chose, but then beta this beast for me, as well!


End file.
